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Greetings, I hope you are well. I say ‘you’ because I don’t trust that evil person next to you who smells funny. Unless, of course, they read the musings in which case they are fandibblyoopsus.

It’s funny how annoying, boring tasks seem to accumulate all at once, and happy, funny stuff comes about every month, and even then it has to be scheduled.

Monday – build up happiness

Wednesday – store happiness

Thursday – release happiness

Friday – return to reality

No one knows what happens on Tuesday. I’d rather not think about it, *shiver* possibly the most frightening things occur on a Tuesday (like this year’s Halloween!!!! But that’s a moot point.)

I’m saying this because it happens to me a lot, and I like complaining about it because…well because complaining about stuff (in general) is a time-honoured, British pastime and I, for one, want to keep it going. It’s like that Australian joke I heard a while back;

Q: When do you know if any British are on a jet plane after it has landed?

A: You still hear the moans and groans after the engine has cooled down.

I’m not ashamed of my ancestry; in fact I’m very proud. Would we have the Magna Carter and thus parliament if the nobility hadn’t complained (albeit with military force and a sharp haddock) to the monarchy? No, we would not. Would we have as many rights as we do now if we hadn’t moaned beforehand? No, probably not, though I see that more of a curse now than as a blessing. Indeed, I think our great ability of complaint has been corrupted and misused over the past 15 years or so, with the development of our ‘PC/sue’ culture. It’s completely ridiculous, and I fear for the insanity of the next generation.

Yes, that’s right, the insanity. Because, like it or not, we need insanity here in Britain. We need eccentrics like we need pointless (and often dangerous) sports; not essential to our state of being, but my! How boring life would be without them. To note, probably my favourite weird sport is Extreme Ironing, to which I’ll put the link here: http://www.altervistas.com/sites/weird/451

Anywho, yes, Britain needs it’s weirdo’s. Well, the good, friendly types. I’m not endorsing extreme nutcases; they can stay in France. But those who iron clothes whilst they’re still wearing them, or those who look for 3 hours for their glasses to find they’re in their hand, are most welcome in this land of ours.

My point of all this is this; If little kids can’t grow up with their little anomalies because of all this politically correct and suing culture crap, they’ll be too afraid to do the truly crazy things which inspire us all. Effectively, we’ll be getting rid of our innovators of every generation. The only thing a kid could aspire to be is someone with money, no intellect and who has their private life splashed over rubbishy magazines.

Well I say “IT STOPS HERE!”. Come join the revolution. This is the revolt of common sense and good humour. The generations of crazy people that will come after us need YOU! Do your little bit everyday, and we’ll be generating mad people like a factory.

Little things like pushing grannies in front of trucks, so little children can see what happens to old ladies when they DON’T help them across the road. Or infiltrating the Walkers crisp factories, and putting razor blades in all the prawn cocktail. Then everyone who didn’t think of it before will now KNOW why Walkers didn’t do it in the first place. Secondly, it might spell the comeback for Golden Wonder who were waaaaay cooler than Walkers were, or ever will be.

Well, maybe I’ll do those sorts of things on your behalf. But you would have to back me up in court that it was for the good of the nation.

In the meantime, have a nice week. I won’t; measuring pebbles on a cold, North Devon beach is the geography departments’ idea of a nice holiday. Writing reports in the evening, you say? Ooo, how could I say no?

Like this: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

*breathes*

Anywho, y’all have a nice week, and remember:

Technically speaking, a female "dude" is known as a "dudine."

So now you know. Also, I just had to include this link, though I advise NOT to read it in the middle of a lesson.

Don't have Sex with Jar Jar Binks!!!

Random Musings (06 - 10 - 2006)

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